Clark Kent
by Greg'sgirl5
Summary: "If you had told Spencer Reid that he was Superman six years ago, he would have looked at you as if you had gone insane." A look back, but also based off the end of 7x01, so there's spoilers. Rated T to be safe.


_Disclaimer: No. I do not own this, for the love of coffee._

_Warning: Uh...spoilers for several eps, especially season 7, episode 1._

_***Based off the end of 7x01***_

**Clark Kent**

If you had told Spencer Reid that he was Superman six years ago, he would have looked at you as if you had gone insane.

He was...he was the polar opposite of Superman. He had been his entire life. When he was bullied as a child, he curled into himself and stayed silent. When he got to high school, that didn't change in the slightest. The taunts they threw at him became a soundtrack that played on repeat in his head, changing him, flattening him. The punches of course literally did that, not that anyone noticed. People watched from the sidelines, and yet nobody ever stepped in. That also became something ingrained in him; that he was alone.

That included when he was at home. Yes, his mother tried the best she could to take care of him, but she was so sick. His father abandoned them and left Spencer to take care of her all by himself, essentially ending his childhood. From then on out he was her caregiver, doctor, helper, maid, and of course, son. Looked at from a certain angle, that was very Superman-like.

But Superman doesn't save countless lives because he has to. He does it because he wants to. Superman is brave, honest and strong. Reid was none of those things.

What was he? The scrawny kid with the big brain. The one who skipped all the grades and breezed through FBI training. The one who had to have special exceptions made, due to his inability to perform athletically. The kid who nobody took seriously. The one who had to be called Doctor just to gain the small slice of respect he could.

He was a wet behind the ears, skinny, awkward nerd, that everyone doubted.

Reid was the equivalent of Clark Kent, but he was no Superman.

If you had told Doctor Spencer Reid that he was Superman five years ago, he would have laughed dryly in your face.

He was not a hero. He didn't save countless lives. He didn't defeat all the bad guys. Usually, they defeated him.

Spencer Reid got no respect. He was wanted by his team, though.

They trusted him.

But it was a different kind of trust than what most people were used to. Trust has many meanings. The trust Spencer Reid had from his team was academic. They didn't trust him to save them, protect them or defend them. No, they trusted him to keep their secrets, spurt off statistics and to effectively create a geological profile.

And he could do everything they wished of him. He could come up with the tiny bit of information they'd missed. He could decipher puzzles and codes, narrow down suspect lists and predict an unsub's next move. He could do that.

But there were still many things he could not do. He couldn't stop the nightmares that plagued him. He hadn't been able to stop Tobias in the shed, even at moments others would have been able to do so. He couldn't fight the need for Dilaudid. He couldn't keep himself on track, despite the fact that he knew he was letting them all down.

And that was _not _anything like Superman. No, he was still a Clark Kent, if that.

If you had told Reid he was Superman four years ago, he would have furrowed his eyebrows at you, and probably asked if you were feeling okay.

Spencer was no hero. He tried and he tried to be, but he hadn't achieved the status.

He tried so hard to be like Morgan. Derek Morgan got all the respect, and all the glory. Why couldn't Reid have that, just once?

Gideon left him, probably because he was so weak. Left nothing but a note, and his stupid badge, and stupid gun. Even the explanation was stupid, and shot a gaping hole in Reid's stupid heart.

He was the most affected by his mentor's departure, and for that he hated himself. Everyone else moved on, accepted it and grew up. But Spencer wasn't able to make himself come to terms with it because it was just too similar to his childhood.

Every night he fought a battle with himself. He picked up the vial, both in love with the substance, and utterly wanting to smash it to bits. The clear liquid bubbled like a taunt, and yet every night, he managed to put it back without breaking the seal. How long he could keep that up though, he wasn't sure.

This was the year he started to change. He began to sort out priorities, friendships and feelings. He began to mature in ways he hadn't before. He got better at some aspects of his job, and worse at others.

Yes, he was now able to know every answer, quote any line and develop any profile. But he was still the scrawny kid, clumsy as ever and constantly teased.

Academically, a little super. But as a profiler, agent and person in general, still a Clark Kent.

If you had told Pretty Boy he was Superman three years ago, he would have asked you if you'd been spending too much time with Garcia.

He wished more than anything to be a super hero. To be strong like Morgan, wise like Hotch or badass like Emily.

Hell, even have a beautiful family like JJ, because that was super in itself. He'd even settle for being a computer whiz like Garcia.

At least the team relied on her. Without her, they'd be stuck. Without Reid, they'd probably just find another genius.

Rossi was now settled into the team fully, and Reid envied him. The respect Rossi earned in a few months, Reid still hadn't received after nearly four years. It made his heart growl with jealousy.

All he wanted was to be seen as a worthy opponent. Deep down he knew he was beatable in every way. It ate away at him, shoving his self esteem into the ground.

He knew the team still looked at him as if he were a child. Small, clumsy and insignificant. And yes, he knew they loved him for that. But he, _he_ did not. He hated that about himself, and yet no matter how hard he tried, he always screwed up.

He'd gone and gotten himself infected with an incurable strain of Anthrax. Nearly gotten Morgan infected as well, if he hadn't closed the door in time. Despite saving his best friend, he had still felt like a letdown seeing the team worry about him.

He couldn't keep a handle on himself half the time, no matter how hard the Genius tried.

Saving victims was part of the job, nothing extraordinary about that. So, not Super, or Superman.

Still the (slightly less inept) Clark Kent.

If you had told Spencer that he was Superman two years ago, he would have raised an eyebrow, and sarcastically answered with a 'are you on crack?' sort of statement.

Reid was as gangly as ever, maybe more so. And again and again, he was managing to mess up.

He got shot on the job. Yes, yes he saved the doctor. So yes, that was a little super. But anyone else on his team would have done it better.

Slowly but surely he was saving more people, and for that he was proud. He was keeping up more with the other team members, despite his physical disablement.

He'd even gotten caught in a lie; rather risk-ay for someone like himself. He was resorting to harsher tactics in order to stay up to par job wise.

Half way through the year he'd cut his hair, as he'd just gotten sick of having it long and feminine. It was symbolic of him finding himself, even though he still hadn't done so. He wished to though, so he chopped off his curly locks.

...And was met with a rhetorical comment, jokes and teasing. He was still the baby of the team, just far more grown up and reserved.

He tried hard to come into his own, and he was starting to do so, little by little. He was still viewed as weird, socially inept and very, very awkward. He wasn't sure, but maybe that was just who he was.

Nevertheless, he was beginning to grow up. He wasn't about the others, but he knew JJ and Emily noticed. Just no one else, especially not Morgan.

So Reid was becoming more super, slowly but surely. And yet he was still at least 63% Clark Kent.

He had done the math.

If you had told Spencer Reid that he was Superman one year ago, he would have attempted to give you a mocking glare, and gone back to his feigned sleep.

His migraines were stopping him from doing nearly everything, and it was driving him insane. He wanted to keep up with everyone, just like always, and yet he just couldn't.

The pain had him terrified of developing schizophrenia, going mad and ending up like his mother.

And if that wasn't enough, JJ got taken away. His best friend, former crush and motherly figure was ripped away from them, and he couldn't handle it. She had been a constant, and without her he was falling.

They brought it Seaver, and Garcia had teased him about having a crush on her. Ashley Seaver was beautiful, smart and surprisingly controversial. But no, Spencer Reid did not have feelings for her.

He didn't have the time, energy or emotional capacity, really. He had decided to focus solely on changing himself, becoming independent and respectable.

But before he could succeed, his world fell apart. Stunning Emily Prentiss was taken by Doyle, stabbed, and died on the table. He'd tried to keep himself together; hold his chest in place with his gangly arms, but had failed.

Collapsed into JJ's arms. Cried on her shoulder. Diminished his dignity. At that point of course, he couldn't have given less of a crap. But looking back on it, his reputation took a hit.

He missed Emily with every single second. And he used that feeling, in order to become stronger, and better at the job. Because if he couldn't save the rest of them, what was the point?

He spent his days at the firing range, practicing his aim meticulously. Trying over and over again, envisioning Doyle's head on the bull's-eye, using his explosive anger to hit where he wanted. He never tired of trying to be perfect.

He spent his nights showing up on JJ's doorstep, unable to do anything with the raw, left over emotions that the repetitive bang of his gun couldn't shoo away. He'd usually be crying, probably dishevelled and tired looking.

And the time in-between, was spent fighting off migraines, and cravings for that evil clear drug, stashed in his closet.

His mind wanted so, so much to be Superman. To save everyone and be invincible.

But his goddamn emotions clung onto Clark Kent.

But if you told Doctor Reid that he was Superman at this very moment, after shooting the armed woman with impeccable aim, saving countless lives including his own...well he'd have to think about it.

First he'd have to sort through the events of that past few days. Finding out Emily was alive nearly tore him apart. Everything he believed and had convinced himself was false. That killed him inside.

Then having her immediately join the team like nothing was wrong. He was angry at her for that. He was angry at Hotch for misleading them. He was furious at JJ for not having any decency within her blonde head.

He'd tried to immerse himself in the case, and try desperately to save Deklan. It hadn't worked of course, and an electric migraine had started to form, beating on his brain.

But that didn't stop him as he took the shot. It didn't stop his as he hit the target. And it didn't stop the slight pride and sliver of bloodlust that lurked beneath his adrenaline.

Going off facts and statistics, Spencer had done everything a Superman would. He'd gotten the bad guy and saved his family. He'd helped to get Deklan back safe, and essentially saved the day.

He'd done it all without thinking about it. Without even blinking.

So yes, he supposed he was now, finally, a Superman.

But he wasn't sure he wanted to be.

**Okay, I know this was very strange. It had no dialogue, and was mostly a look back over the years. But it came to me and I had to write it down. Please review, thank you for reading!**

**xo**


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